


Useful

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blackmail, Dean Being an Asshole, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean, Rape Aftermath, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is struck with a terrible affliction, and the demon who knows the cure only accepts deals made with angels. Dean doesn't know this, of course, and takes the credit while Castiel sacrifices every last part of himself for the brothers' sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every speck of dust on Castiel's body told him that he should not enter that door. He knew exactly what would happen if he stepped through that doorway - the Enochian sigils all over the walls were clear enough.

So long as he was in that building, he would not have his grace.

The demon that took residence in those walls was one who was fond of being left alone. He liked to call himself the Reaver, but Castiel knew his name was Flauros: a cunning, wicked creature that hated angels above all else.

Castiel's hand hovered over the doorknob. He thought about turning back.

But then the image of Dean, hunched over Sam's bed, hunched over Sam's bed and _crying_ , shot through his mind. Dean, praying, begging: _Castiel, please, please help me or Sam will die_. And Sam, wheezing, barely breathing as that strange disease coiled deep inside him.

Castiel swallowed. Only Flauros would know the cure to something like this. And only Castiel had what Flauros wanted in return.

He opened the door. His consent alighted the sigils. An angel was willingly giving up its grace for as long as it walked these halls. Castiel stepped inside and felt the light inside him flatten and wither. His grace was still there, but he could not call upon it. The feeling left him winded and weak: his bodily sensations flooded him all at once, and he stumbled, putting his hand against the wall for support as he came to terms with sensations he had never felt before.

He shook his head quickly. Now was not the time to be weak. Dean needed him and he could not let him down - not after all the mistakes he'd made throughout his past, his blunders, his everything.

Within moments, Flauros came before him. In the darkness, Castiel could hardly make out the demon's features - it was in a male bodied vessel, and wore a suit. The demon smiled as his dark eyes filled with recognition.

"Tell me what you seek, and I will give it to you - for a price."

"A cure for the human," Castiel replied. "He has been struck with-"

"-a deadly disease, I know." Flauros stepped closer, and Castiel did not back away. "The real question is this: do _you_ know what my price is?" He reached out his hand and lifted Castiel's chin. He was taller and Castiel looked up at him, his neck exposed.

"Yes," Castiel said, and closed his eyes.

Flauros smiled. "Good. Then I will lay out our terms. I will not give you the medicine. The human will have to come himself to pick it up."

Castiel felt himself wanting to object. The whole point of this was that Dean wouldn't get involved - but he knew he shouldn't cut in while the demon was explaining.

"I will siphon some of the human's blood each time he comes. The process is harmless, but it is meant to make him believe that he is the one paying for the medicine. Meanwhile, you will come to me every day. And you will pay the _real_ price. You must not tell the human about our arrangement. We wouldn't want him interfering, now would we?"

Castiel nodded. "Understood." His heart filled with loathing. How he wished he could just strangle this demon right here and now - but if he did, the knowledge of the medicine went down with him.

Flauros's hands traveled down Castiel's body until they found the fly of his pants. "Feel free to make all the noise you want," he murmured. "No one will be able to hear."

Castiel held his breath as the demon stripped his vessel barren. Without his grace, every sensation hit him almost intimately - the air on his skin, the strange shame of being so exposed. Flauros wordlessly bent the angel over a table.

Castiel's heart quickened. This was fine. Any damage he sustained would be purely temporary. The moment he ventured outside, his grace would return and every wound would be gone. He reminded himself this over and over while the demon worked behind him, lubricating him and stretching him out with a finger. It felt horribly strange and vaguely painful, and he cursed his human vessel for being so sensitive to bodily pains.

"Relax," Flauros said behind him. "Tension will only make it worse." And without another word, he shoved himself inside.

Castiel gasped. The pain was worse than he imagined. It ripped through him and burned and wouldn't stop because now Flauros was moving inside of him, thrusting with brusque ferocity. His hands scrambled across the table as he struggled to make himself more comfortable - each time Flauros lunged, Castiel scraped against the table, his whole body rocking.

Flauros grasped Castiel by the hair and pulled his head up. Castiel panted. His eyes fixated on a painting of a lake on the wall. He tried to drown himself in the waves of the blue acryllic while agony tore through him like fire.

The pace quickened, and soon Castiel was no longer gasping but crying out. Then Flauros finally buried deep and emptied himself inside of Castiel with a groan. He pulled out and ruffled Castiel's hair in a mock affectionate gesture. "Very good," he whispered, and slunk away into the depths of the house.

Castiel took a few moments to calm down before he moved, gingerly, to pull his pants and trousers back up. He tried to ignore the hot, wet stickiness between his thighs as he trudged away from the table, breathing still erratic.

He stumbled outside of the building almost fervently. In an instant, his grace returned to him, pouring through his body, cleansing him, healing him. He fell on his knees, gasping still, arms wrapped around his torso. He was trembling and he couldn't figure out why. He had his grace back, didn't he? The damage was all healed. Then why - then why did he still feel horrible? Why was he so... afraid?

He shook his head and rose to his feet. He had to leave the area before Dean came. After all, the whole point of the ruse was for Dean to not know of his involvement. Castiel closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and then took flight.

-

Later that night, Castiel visited the Winchesters' home. He couldn't trust Flauros - he had to see Sam's health improve for himself.

Already, the color seemed to be returning to Sam's face, and his breathing came less labored. Castiel reached out his hand to maybe give him a comforting touch, but he jolted violently instead when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He twisted away, turning, and saw that it was Dean.

Dean looked mildly perturbed, annoyed, and also tired. "The hell's wrong with you?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nothing," Castiel answered, and where he normally would have met Dean's stare he found himself averting his eyes.

"Sounds about right," Dean snapped almost nastily. "Appreciate the concern, Cas, but as you can see, I'm taking care of my brother just fine by myself."

Castiel's heart sunk and he wasn't sure why. "Of course," he replied. "I just... wanted to check up on him."

Dean nodded and looked to his brother lying on the bed. "I found the demon who knows the cure, but he wants me to keep coming back. He won't give me the whole damn package - says he'll give me a few doses each time I go." His hands clenched into fists. "And I don't know how many I need to cure Sammy."

Castiel lowered his head and swallowed. He knew Dean would have no idea of his involvement, but for some reason his ungratefulness stung more than expected. And what was that earlier - his reaction to being touched? He had never felt that kind of panic before. He stood there, consumed in his thoughts for a long time before he was snapped out of it by Dean entering into his personal space. Funny - he had never cared much for personal space before, but now he found himself wanting to back away when Dean got so close.

"Look, Cas, I hate to say this, but you aren't being very helpful just standing around. So uh... do us all a favor and do something useful, okay?"

Castiel inhaled. He stepped back, nodding. Useful. _(And Flauros was there, touching him, filling him. "Very good," he said, and grasped his hair. "Very good.")_ Useful, Castiel thought, before he abruptly flew away - anything to get him away from Dean, Dean and Sam, Dean and his terrible, angry eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel returned the next day to see Flauros smiling. "I see you're satisfied with the results," the demon said.

Satisfied? Castiel clenched his fists. "Just give Dean the whole cure already. His brother is suffering."

Flauros shook his head, wagging his finger. "In due time. The human will live. Now, as for today's payment..."

Gritting his teeth, this time Castiel undressed on his own. Flauros took him again, pushing him against the wall, pulling his hair and grunting. The pain was no less intense than the first time, and Castiel realized shamefully that tears had started leaking from the corners of his eyes. Every human instinct in his body told him that he did not want this, that he should make it stop. But the angel inside of him remembered Dean and Sam, and remembered how much he loved them.

Then Flauros's hand wrapped around Castiel's front to reach down and grasp him. Castiel gasped, jerking forward - he hated how sensitive that part of the male body was, how it caused something electric to course through him. "Stop," he breathed, and to his shock, Flauros did.

"Stop? Then I'm guessing you're fine with letting the human die," he murmured, and Castiel's chest burned with fear and hatred. "Remember what you're here for, angel. I know how many times you've failed in the past. How many times you've made everything worse. You want to make things better, don't you? This is the only thing you can do right."

Castiel breathed hard, staring into the wall in front of him. It was plain and white but he swore he saw colors swimming, swirling and turning red with pain and shame. "K... keep going," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don't stop."

"That's what I thought," Flauros said, and shoved his hips in deep again, while his hand began to work Castiel's growing heat.

Castiel squirmed, hating his vessel for the way it reacted. His breathing turned loud and raspy, punctuated with every thrust. His whole skin turned flush and sweaty. He reached out his hands and pressed them against the wall, digging his nails into the wallpaper. But the tightness would not stop growing, and soon he was yelling out, his veins coursing with fire as he climaxed into the air.

Almost immediately, his body sunk like a limp doll. But Flauros was not yet done, and continued their aggressive coupling. The sensations were too much - he was so sore - he was screaming, he realized, he was screaming his throat raw. This seemed only to excite the demon more, and once again he finished inside of him, filling Castiel with that disgusting wetness.

Castiel slumped to the ground, gasping as if there were not enough air. Flauros crouched next to him, watching with bemusement. "You angels," he said. "So full of pride. But in the end, when you come down to Earth, you are no better than the humans you possess."

Castiel said nothing. He could not. The demon was right. Just like a filthy human, here he lay, surrounded by the fluids that were proof of his sin. It took him several moments to gather himself, stand shakily, and stumble out of the house.

His grace returned, but for some reason it did not comfort him. He was disgusting. He had - his body had _reacted_ to that. _Favorably_. He tried to console himself, tell himself it was only natural, it was what human bodies were _made_ to do, but nothing seemed to cleanse him of the idea of his permeating grossness, the filth that had now permanently marked his existence.

He flew. He flew far away to a place he thought would make him pure. An isolated lake surrounded by thick green trees. When he got there, he nearly jumped inside. But something made him hesitate.

Blue water rippled under a weak breeze. Suddenly he was gasping, and _Flauros was behind him, violating him, and rough wood chafed his thighs, and the acryllic painting of the lake shuddered and danced in his frantic vision_ and Castiel fell back, his eyes wide and panicked. This wasn't real. This wasn't _real_. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he could not disengage himself from the vision of Flauros touching him, _consuming_ him.

He closed his eyes and ran away from the lake, into the forest. He couldn't bear to look at it anymore, and he knew it was ridiculous.

He was an angel of the Lord, and here he was, cowering before blue water.

Useless.

-

Castiel returned to the Winchesters again that night. That was the thing about him; he just couldn't leave things alone. This time Dean looked even more exhausted: pale with swollen bags under his eyes, and with a grouchy attitude to match.

"What do you want?" he snapped, and Castiel tried not to flinch. For some reason, whenever he saw men angry now, he found himself growing terrified. Even if it was Dean. Even if it was someone he loved.

"You're tired," Castiel said awkwardly. "I thought I would watch over Sam for you."

Dean exhaled. "Well, thanks. Not much to do, though, other than keep a cold towel on his head. You can do that much, right?"

Dean probably hadn't meant for the question to be so scathing, but it stung like hell, and Castiel - ridiculously - felt like crying. He had never been so sensitive before - what was _wrong_ with him? He stood there dumbfounded without realizing when Dean waved his hand in his face.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" Dean sighed, clearly trying not to lose what little patience he had left.

Castiel blinked. "Sorry," he said, but Dean was already gone, slinking down the hall, presumably to get some much-needed rest.

Castiel took a moment to take a deep breath before he stepped into Sam's room. He sat in the chair pulled up next to the bed and touched the lukewarm washcloth. A metal bowl filled with water was on the nightstand. He dipped the towel in, wrung it, folded it neatly, and placed it back on Sam's forehead.

Sam was barely conscious. "Cas?" he rasped, and Castiel's heart swelled. This was what he was doing this for. For the two humans who forgave him and accepted him despite all his blunders. It didn't matter what he had to sacrifice. It was for them.

"Yes," Castiel said softly. "It's me. Get some rest."

Sam forced a weak smile. "Been doing enough of that already, I think."

"And your body needs even more," Castiel said, and squeezed Sam's hand. Sam stayed awake for a few more minutes before he slipped back into fitful sleep.

Castiel watched over him. He could almost forget about the pain and the filth of his body.

But next morning came like an ugly reminder, and he knew it was time to go.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, Castiel had been left so sore and weakened from Flauros's aggressive coupling that he was unable to move. Flauros watched him as he struggled on the ground, trying to at least stand, but his limbs trembled so violently that he couldn't keep his balance, let alone manage to push himself to his feet or even drag himself out of the building.

He was crying again, and he hated himself for it. He struggled to breathe. He felt so pathetic, squirming on the floor like this, slick with sweat and other disgusting fluids. His stomach churned. Nausea, a sensation he was greatly unfamiliar with as an angel, overtook him, and he nearly vomited before he remembered Flauros was still watching, and would probably hurt him even more if he tarnished the floors with his bile.

Flauros watched the angel struggle for a few more moments before he seized Castiel by the hair. "The human will be arriving soon, and I can't have him see you," he said, and promptly shoved Castiel into a nearby closet. Castiel yelped in protest, but Flauros slid a heavy object in front of the doors, preventing them from opening. "Remember our deal," he added in a low voice. "Make any sign of you being in there, and consider it over."

Castiel swallowed and resigned himself to the cramped, dark space of the wardrobe. He had no idea how long he was in there when he heard the front door being knocked.

Flauros stepped over to the door and opened it. "Here for your daily medicine, I see," he said, and Castiel's heart clenched. Dean.

"Let's just get it over with," Dean replied, voice gruff as ever. The two of them walked closer to the closet and sat down. Castiel thought he was going to be sick again - Dean was standing at the very spot where he -

"No need to be so brusque," said Flauros. "Or are you, perhaps, upset by something?"

"That's none of your business."

"Please. You won't be going anywhere anytime soon. You might as well make this moment less unbearable by engaging in some friendly conversation."

Castiel could almost hear Dean clench his teeth. "Out of curiosity, then. Any angels visit you lately?" Castiel held his breath once the question fell on his ears.

Flauros, of course, answered flawlessly: "No. Why do you ask?"

Dean sighed. "Of course. Should've known."

It was as if Dean had stabbed him in the throat. Castiel felt himself sinking deeper into the tight space. He covered his mouth with his hand. Bitter bile rose into his mouth and roiled inside of his belly. At that moment, he wished he could just eject himself from his body and never come back.

But real life was not so merciful, and after some time, Dean eventually - finally - left. Flauros opened the closet doors, and Castiel came tumbling out. Weakly, he lifted his head to see the demon standing there with a smug sneer.

"Just remember, angel, you can back out any time you want. At the cost of the human's life, of course."

Castiel flared with anger. In any other situation, he would have smote this wretched creature by now. But here, like this... what could he do? Flauros was right. This was the only way he could make himself useful.

He tried not to think about the words that had come out of Dean's mouth as he dragged himself out of the building, back to his grace. He thought about returning to the Winchesters again, but then those words came back, stinging hard. _Should've known._ He couldn't blame him. After all the things he'd ruined in the past? The skepticism was well-earnt.

Maybe he could try to take his mind off of things. No lakes, he reminded himself. No blue water. He tried to think of other places that could help. Maybe he could go to the store and try to buy Dean something. That was a simple enough task.

He gathered himself as quickly as he could and took flight.

-

Human stores were very weird places. They had shelves upon shelves of food that often went unpurchased and to waste. If Castiel had more human money on hand, he might even be tempted to buy the entire stock, if only to do something productive with it, like hand it out to all the people on the streets who did not have food. But he barely had enough money as is, and he was here with a mission: to buy Dean some beer and pie.

It took only a few moments to pick out the items. He knew which pie was Dean's favorite, and he was pretty sure he also knew which beer was Dean's favorite. He thought about getting Sam something, but knowing his condition, he probably couldn't do anything but drink water, so Castiel sufficed to just get him one of those "Get Well" cards that humans liked to give to their hospitalized loved ones. He thought Sam might appreciate that.

Finally, there was the checkout line. There were a large amount of other people there, most with carts, some with baskets. Castiel shuffled into line, ignoring the prickling that danced all over his skin. He hadn't been around this many people in a very long time, and it was practically making his hands quiver.

A person filed into line behind him. Castiel found himself unable to resist the urge to glance behind him and look at them. It was an older man with a basket full of booze. Castiel looked back ahead of him. He could still sense the old man there, and yet, a creeping suspicion began racing down his spine. What if? What if the man was planning something? (Planning what?) What if he was going to hurt him? (How? He was only human.) What if, what if, what if? Castiel glanced back again, and this time the old man raised a brow, as if annoyed. Castiel quickly looked forward again. With his free hand, he gripped his chest, and tried to will himself to calm down. But he just could not. Again, he found himself terrified of being unable to look at the man behind him. He glanced back again. The old man seemed irritated. He looked forward. His palms sweat. He glanced back again. Now the old man was getting angrier. He looked forward.

Just one more time. Just one more time and he could stop. Castiel looked back. Now he'd done it. The old man dropped his basket and grabbed Castiel by the collar of his shirt. "Something on my face, asshole?"

Castiel trembled, struggling to choke out an answer, but he could not. Tears formed in his eyes. He thought his heart would burst into flames at any moment. "I'm s..." He tried to say _I'm sorry_ , but he could barely speak, and his breathing came erratic and desperate.

Suddenly, a woman came between them, and wrestled Castiel out of the man's grip. "Sir, please calm down!" she shouted at the man. Castiel slumped to the ground, his head spinning. His whole chest heaved with deep breaths.

One of the store clerks approached him. "Sir, we are so, so sorry for this. Please, feel free to take those items home with you," she said, and Castiel nodded breathlessly. Without another word, he collected the three items he was going to buy, and darted out of the store.

When he got outside, he stumbled to a place out of sight, and took several moments to collect himself. When finally took a second to look at the items, he wanted to smack himself. In his haste, he had crumpled up the Get Well card and splattered some of the pie inside of its own casing. At least the beer was still okay, but...

He sighed, shaking his head. Well, he had no other choice but to give them all he had to give.

-

Castiel knocked on the door to see Dean looking even more angry and tired. His heart raced as, gingerly, he held out the pie and beer. "I got these for you," he said, and nearly kicked himself when he realized his voice was shaking.

Dean took the items and gave Castiel an almost positive glance. "Thanks," he said. "And uh... what's that?" He motioned to the crumpled-up card.

Castiel looked at it. "Oh, uh. This is for Sam." He held it out.

Dean looked at it skeptically, his brows raised. He took the card in his hands and opened it up. There were drawings of cartoon frogs and balloons. He read the text out loud: "'It's no fun feeling ick; we're so sorry you are sick. Keep on smiling and get plenty of rest, and soon you'll be feeling at your best'." He stared at the card for another ten minutes before he looked up at Castiel. "Cas, this is for five-year-olds."

"Oh." Castiel's heart sunk.

Dean cracked a tired smile. "Thanks for trying, though." He pulled back a fist to give Castiel a light punch to the shoulder. Castiel, however, did not react as expected.

Almost instantly, he shoved Dean away in an act of instinctive defense. He forgot, however, about his grace - about how _strong_ he was with it - and ended up shoving Dean into the opposite wall. Dean cursed in pain as his back hit the wall and he slid down. Castiel stepped back, in shock of his own strength, and horrified of what he had done. "Dean, I'm sorry-" he started to say, but Dean stepped forward aggressively, jabbing a finger into his face.

"No, you know what? I'm done with your apologies, Cas. Every time you try to do something right you fuck it up. My brother's falling apart and I've just about lost every fuck I used to give for you, so if you know what's good for you, if you know what's good for _us_ , you will back the fuck away and never come back. You hear me?"

Castiel thought his throat was made of sandpaper. He swallowed dry air and stumbled back, nodding dumbly.

He could feel Flauros behind him again, taking him, _using_ him. His words echoed inside of Castiel's skull. _(You are no better than the humans you possess.)_

Castiel flew away.


	4. Chapter 4

"Please," Castiel begged, on his knees. "You may do whatever you wish to me. Just give the rest of the medicine to Dean. I can't put him through this any longer."

Flauros looked down at the angel with a blank expression. Slowly, his lips coiled upwards into a smile. He knelt down and ruffled Castiel's hair. "Only because you asked so sweetly, angel. Just remember you asked for this."

Castiel nodded, trying to hold back his tears. _I'm sorry, Dean. But this is the most I can do for you._ He held onto the image of Dean's twisted, angry face like it was his only hope. All he ever wanted was to fix things. That was all he ever wanted. And now, he hoped, he would finally be able to do the right thing. Nevermind what happened to him because of it, so long as Dean and Sam were going to be okay.

Flauros began to unbutton Castiel's shirt. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against Castiel's ear. "Do you know why I only accept this payment from angels?" Castiel didn't dare to answer, so he continued: "Because you're all so fun to _break_. And you, Castiel, were the easiest of them all."

Castiel closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the demon.

-

Castiel had lost count of the hours long ago. Flauros came and went, using him whenever he pleased just to leave him there on the table afterwards, tied down and helpless. Sometimes Flauros would touch him, too, but most of the time he left Castiel crying out in pain and eventually whimpering as the fight deserted him. Castiel had never felt so swollen, so overstimulated, so exhausted. Several times he prayed he would fall unconscious, but every time he was on the edge, Flauros would come back, violate him into wakefulness, and then leave after he was finished.

Castiel, too, lost track of the amount of times he had been used. He was counting at first to try to keep his mind focused, but eventually it felt like he no longer had a mind: that he was just a sack of flesh being used for a demon's pleasure.

But did it matter anymore? He had nowhere to return to. Not Heaven, and not even to the Winchesters. He had tarnished everything beautiful about him, and he almost found some comfort in it. It was justice, in a way. Justice he long deserved.

Upstairs, he heard the door swing open. Dean and Flauros made their final transaction. Then Dean left. Castiel rested his face on the wood. Now it was finally over for Dean and Sam. And they wouldn't have to worry about this pesky angel meddling with them anymore.

Flauros returned down the stairs and stroked Castiel's face. "Now," he whispered. "Where were we?"

-

Dean sighed a breath of relief as the color continued returning to Sam's face. Give it a few more days, he thought, and soon his brother would feel right as rain again.

He slunk into the kitchen and sat by the island. His eyes wandered over to the ruined pie. Truth be told, he felt kind of bad about yesterday. Perhaps he'd been too rude. Yes, Castiel hurt him, but it was definitely an accident, and he couldn't deny that lately, the angel had been very... jumpy. Hell if he knew why, but... he shouldn't have made the motion to punch him. Even if it was only in jest.

He reached over to open up the pie box and began to eat it nonchalantly. He paused, setting down his fork. By this time, Castiel should have shown up by now, all stony-faced and asking what he could do to help. But... then again, Dean _did_ tell him to never come back. He winced. Definitely a bit too much. He hadn't meant that. It was just... he'd been angry.

He inhaled sharply and resolved to try and set things straight. Instinctively, his hands folded together in prayer.

"Cas, if you're there, I'm sorry, sorta, and... I didn't mean what I said, yesterday. So... yeah. I think we could, you know, talk this over. Work this out. I got the rest of the medicine, so we don't need to worry about that anymore, either."

He paused, biting his lip. He waited for at least five minutes before he shook his head, exhaling. No answer. He didn't know what else he expected. Maybe Cas was being stubborn like usual and refused to answer Dean's call on principle. Well, whatever it was, he didn't care. He could fix their relationship any time.

-

Flauros was inside of Castiel when the prayer rang through the angel's ears. He gasped, eyelids fluttering as Dean's words echoed in his mind. Flauros didn't even notice. He chalked it up to a typical reaction to what was being done to the limp body beneath him.

Castiel's heart wrenched. If only Dean would just stop _caring_ about him. There was nothing left of him anyways. Nothing but his body, his flesh. If there had once been some other part of him he was proud of, he no longer cared for it.

He sunk into the table, his body rocking with every thrust. His mind wandered to anyone and anywhere else, but to his anguish, for some reason his thoughts would always go back to Dean.

-

The next morning, the first thing Dean did was check on Sam. He nearly cried when he saw his brother sitting up on his own in the bed, the color returned to his face.

"Hey," said Sam, cracking a small grin.

"Hey, you," Dean replied, beaming.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked, and Dean tried not to show his disappointment.

"I don't know. Why?" he responded.

Sam frowned. "Just wondering."

Dean shook his head. "Nevermind about Cas. I mean, what about you, man? How are you feeling?"

Sam chuckled. "Good as I can feel. Do you maybe wanna get me something to eat?"

Dean pat his brother on the shoulder. "Good point. Bet you're probably sick of drinking juice and mashed up food. I'll see what I can find at the store." And with that, he rose and headed out.

-

Dean was in the checkout line at the store when he overheard two of the clerks talking. He stopped and listened in when he heard something about a man who got away with pie, beer, and a get well card.

"That poor guy. He looked so shaken up, like he was gonna shit his pants. I don't think I've ever seen anyone react like that before."

A strange, vague dread filled Dean the more he heard. He remembered the way Castiel's hands shook, the way he couldn't look him in the eye anymore, the way he shied and jerked away from being touched. Something cold and ugly reared itself in Dean's gut. All along, there had been signs. Something wasn't right, but Dean was too consumed in himself to even notice.

Within a second he dropped his bags and darted out of the store without buying. He just hoped he wasn't too late.


	5. Chapter 5

The demon's house was as uninviting as ever. This time, Dean finally paid attention to the Enochian sigils painted on the walls and door. To his dismay, however, he could not decipher them very well.

He knocked on the door and waited. No answer. He knocked again, more furiously. Still no answer. His hands clenched into fists. Instinctively, he curled his fingers around the grip of the knife in his pocket. Just as he was about to force his way in, the door opened.

Flauros stood there with his typical smile. "Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just very happy to me?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Dean lunged forward, shoving the demon against the wall. He put the blade to Flauros's neck. The demon chuckled nervously, lifting his hands. "My, what's the big idea? Don't tell me your brother died before the medicine could cure him."

"Shut up," Dean growled. "Earlier I asked you if any angels had dropped by. You said no. But now I know you're full of shit."

"And where's your proof for that accusation?" Flauros asked, his voice cold.

"Cas, he-" Dean swallowed, trying not to betray too much emotion in his wavering voice. "...Just a hunch, alright? Now answer the question."

Flauros narrowed his eyes. "I stand by what I said. No angels passed through here. You're being ridiculous, Dean. I expected better of you."

Dean drove the knife into Flauros's arm. The demon howled in pain, clenching his teeth. Dean brought his face closer, his voice lowering to a hiss. "You really shouldn't have," he snarled. "Because I have no problem sinking to your level, asshole."

At this, Flauros suddenly began to laugh. Then he shook his head. "Oh, but Dean: you already did. I suppose I knew all along that I wouldn't get away with this one, but hell - was it good while it lasted." His lips curled upwards into a twisted sneer. "You're right. An angel did come here. Not once, but several times. Every day, in fact. I mean, you really thought your blood was that valuable to me? Bullshit. That was a ruse. Castiel was paying for you this whole time - with his body."

Dean stared at Flauros wordlessly, his heart throbbing. He wanted to believe it wasn't true. But everything he'd seen... it added up. It explained why Castiel kept coming back to check up on Sam. And why he refused to be touched. And why he... why he was so afraid. And why this time he cared _so much_.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Flauros licked his lips. "Just get it over with already. But don't forget, human. You're just as guilty as I was here. Prancing around pretending you'd made some kind of sacrifice while _he_ was getting raped every day. You're pathetic."

More words were ready to spill out of the demon's mouth, but Dean would never hear them. He drove the knife into Flauros's throat. The demon slumped to the ground, dead, while Dean stepped back, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

"Cas," he remembered suddenly, and darted through the building frantically, shouting his name. "Cas!! Cas!"

He found a stairway leading down and practically fell down it in his haste. The basement was dark and stunk of sweat and panic. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dean felt like he'd just been struck in the gut.

Lying on the table, tied down, was Castiel. Naked and unconscious and even bloody. And between his legs...

Dean's stomach churned. The first thing he did was run over and untie the bonds. He put clothes on the angel to the best of his ability, though it was hard when Castiel was so heavy and completely limp. Carrying him carefully, Dean stepped out of the building and towards the Impala parked nearby. He gently set Castiel down in the backseat and began to drive for home. He gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. A very small and terrible part of him almost wished that Castiel wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

-

They were still in the car when Castiel awoke. Dean heard the angel shifting around in the back, and in the rear-view mirror, he could see him slowly sitting up, looking bewildered as he took in the surroundings of his current situation.

"Dean?" Castiel said softly, and Dean's heart flew into his throat.

"Hey," he croaked, and nearly punched himself for the reply. Hey?? Was that really the right thing to say to someone after... this?

Castiel was silent for a moment. Then, he added, "So you killed Flauros, then."

"I did."

"What... did he tell you? Or... how did you find out?" There was pain in the angel's voice, and it killed Dean. He wished he could have gone back in time. Wished he could have done something else. Figured something else out. There was always another way. Just... not like this. _Not like this_.

"I... Cas, I should have done something earlier. I knew something wasn't right but I... I was too damn selfish to think about anything except for myself. I'm sorry I came so late. I should've come sooner. I should've..." Dean's voice trailed off as he studied Cas's changing expression in the mirror. The angel was hunched over, his brows twisted together.

"Dean," said Cas wearily, as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders, "do not feel too guilty. This... was not your fault. If anything, I'm grateful you even came back to save me."

Not his fault? "Grateful?" Dean spluttered, trying not to raise his voice, but failing to keep out the edge of hostility in his tone. "Shit, Cas. This isn't about your _pride_ or whatever the hell you're getting at. What you went through - _no one_ should have to endure that. For any reason. Do you understand?"

Castiel pressed his lips together, looking out the window. "I am not human, Dean. I will live. Would you rather I have done nothing, and let Sam die?"

"Dammit, Cas, that's not what I'm saying!" Dean thumped his palm on the steering wheel. "Why didn't you think to come to me? Why didn't you think to maybe think of another way? What made you think that I - that anyone would have wanted this?"

Castiel's shoulders sunk. "I am sorry, Dean." And that was all he said. Dean waited for more words, but nothing came out. Castiel simply sat in the back, looking dejected. Dean knew the angel had always had the propensity for silence, but at this moment the insistence on reticence was nothing short of _infuriating_. Finally, Castiel spoke again, but his voice was terribly thin and quiet: "And besides, after all I have done in the past, after all of my errors, and the times I have hurt others... don't you think this was well-deserved?"

At that, Dean slammed on the brakes. Cas flinched, jerking with the Impala's sudden stop. Dean whipped around, turning his body in his seat to look directly at Castiel, whose eyes were wide and almost panicked. But Dean was too consumed in his anger to pay the angel any real mind. "Don't you ever say that again," Dean growled. "Don't you..." he stopped when he realized Castiel was no longer paying attention to him, but instead was shaking, eyes glassed over and staring into the distance. Dean wished he could shove a cork down his own stupid throat. Slowly, he reached out his hand. "Cas - I'm sorry-" he said, but when he touched him, Castiel reacted as if Dean's hand were made of holy fire.

"Don't!" Castiel yelled sharply, jerking away. He breathed heavily, his eyes focusing again, and remembered where he was. He slumped in his seat, lowering his eyes almost immediately. "...I... I don't know why I overreacted in that manner. I..." He struggled for things to say, but nothing came to him. He inhaled, and shook his head. "I... I need to go."

Dean raised his hand. "Wait-!" he said, but Castiel was already gone. Dean sat alone in the Impala on an empty road.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel stumbled out onto the city streets. He looked around. He had no idea where he was. In his panic, he had simply flown anywhere - anywhere far from Dean. Around him, people continued their leisurely business, walking down the sidewalks in a hushed shuffle, pushing past him like he was a lamppost or something. He inhaled sharply, trying not to overreact to being touched and jostled so much, and quickly withdrew into an alley, taking a moment to simply breathe.

His hands were shaking, still, and it infuriated him. He was an angel. A soldier. He was not - he swallowed. He was not _this_ , whatever it was. This ball of fear and panic and confusion, this pent-up mess of emotions that he'd never had to experience before. He reached for his grace and tried to clear away all the feelings that muddled his mind, but no matter what, they came back, crowding into his brain and filling him with a rush of anxiety. He shook his head. He just couldn't understand. He couldn't understand why this had affected him so much. It wasn't like - it wasn't like Flauros had touched _him_. It was just his vessel. It was just Jimmy Novak's body. But why - ?

Castiel swallowed. He wasn't going to figure it out like this. Slowly, his hands fell to his sides, the tips of his fingers still trembling ever so slightly, though he tried to ignore it.

Then, like a megaphone was blaring in his ears, Dean's voice. Castiel stumbled, putting a hand to his ear, as if that was going to make it any quieter. Dean was praying again, praying _Cas please come back I didn't mean any of that I fucked up please come back I shouldn't have yelled I shouldn't have touched you shouldn't have shouldn't have_ and suddenly Castiel couldn't take it anymore and he muted it, shut the angel radio off in his mind and made it all quiet.

He sunk down, his back sliding against the brick wall of the alleyway, the usual murmur of angels and Heaven in his mind now totally silent. Now it was just him and his thoughts _(what is wrong with you you are an angel of the Lord)_ , his memories _(Flauros)_ , his mind that was now racing off the tracks and no longer felt like his _(just like his body which was no longer his) it wasn't his in the first place_.

Tears stained his vision. He huffed out an exhale and brushed them away brusquely with the back of his hand. Angels weren't supposed to cry.

-

"Where were you?" Sam interrogated when Dean finally returned home late at night. Dean glanced at Sam once and that was enough for Sam to back off, to know right away that something wasn't right.

Dean settled down in his chair. The first thing he did was reach for a bottle of beer. Sam didn't stop him. The two sat in the kitchen in silence for a few moments before Sam decided to press again. "What happened?" he asked in a less aggressive tone.

"It's Cas," Dean said, and Sam's brows furrowed together. "He - I found out what he did."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. His heart pounded. "What, I mean... like, something bad? Like Purgatory bad?"

Dean looked up, his eyes wide. He shook his head quickly. "No, Sam, not... not like that." His hand clenched around the glass of the bottle hard, like he was going to break it. "I found out what he did in order to cure you."

Sam took a moment to process this information, his jaw slightly slack. Then said quickly, "But I thought you were the one who was getting me the medicine."

At that, Dean barked a harsh laugh. "Yeah, fuck. I thought so too." His head hung between his weary shoulders. "The damn demon was playing us. The shit I was giving him was just a diversion. It was Cas who was making the real deals behind-the-scenes."

"What did the demon want from him?" Sam asked. He couldn't think of too many reasons why a demon would want to make deals only with angels. And Castiel, uncompromising and stern as he was, was unlikely to do anything for a demon just for - just for him. Just for _Sam_.

Dean inhaled. His voice choked up, and Sam knew he'd touched something real sensitive. He thought about maybe saying they could talk about this some other time, despite how much he was practically bubbling with curiosity, but then Dean spoke. "His body, Sam," he croaked, his voice dry. "He paid the demon with his body."

Sam's head spun. Dean's words seemed to come through a thick and hazy veil. "Come again?" Sam said, but he knew he didn't want to hear it again.

Dean repeated it, angrier this time, with more conviction. "The demon raped Cas so that he could cure you," he practically shouted, and Sam flinched. The tone of fury, of rage... it couldn't be directed at him, could it?

It wasn't Sam's fault he got sick. It wasn't... He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. Sam stood up slowly. "Dean, I didn't..." Dean was drunk. That's what it was. He was drunk and saying shit he didn't mean and - damn it, Cas, why did he have to go so far? Why did he always go so far? For him? For Dean? For them? They were two fucked-up boys, two humans who'd made his life hell, but there he went, throwing himself into the fire and over and over again for their sake.

But then, like a balloon deflating, the anger left Dean in an instant, and Dean sunk into the chair. "I know, Sammy. It's not your fault," he said softly. "You didn't know. You couldn't have known."

Sam looked down. "...Where's he now?"

Dean shook his head. "...I... got him away from the demon. I killed the demon, actually. But then I... in the car. On the way home. I said... some things. Some things I shouldn't have. I - I don't know where is." He looked up, his eyes wide and sad and lost. "Sam, I really fucked up. He could be out there somewhere, someone could..."

"He's an angel," Sam said, trying to be reassuring. "He'll be fine."

"No, he isn't," Dean said, and drained the bottle.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was wandering. On his good days he would walk in cities and downtowns, among people. On his worst days he would stand alone in fields of grass and flowers and trees and feel the breeze on his skin, as if sunlight and open air could cure him of the memories that were always behind him.

He tried to outrun them. He tried to outrun the feeling of skin on skin, of sweat and misery and filth. His wings aloft in the wind, he kept going, and going, circling the whole planet in blinks of an eye, but always, always, Flauros would catch up to him, and he would be left, gasping for air, hands clutching at his own body as if his lungs were being crushed.

He left the angel radio off, but sometimes he could not bear the silence either, and he would flip it back on to listen to the hum and murmur of angels, and occasionally, to the sounds of fevered prayer, and that always hurt the most.

Dean, hands clasped together, a glass bottle on the table, lines on his weathered face. Him begging and pleading for Castiel to come back so they could just - just _talk_.

And oh, how badly Castiel wished they could. But every time he thought of it, his hands would shake, and he would see Dean furious in his mind, screaming at him, telling him he was stupid, worthless, useless, that _I don't need you, Cas_.

Time passed. Castiel had no idea how long. Time passed and eventually Dean stopped praying. Maybe he had finally given up. And Castiel pretended to be relieved though deep inside he was nothing but destroyed.

_What were you expecting, Castiel? That Dean would spend the rest of his life praying for you, when you wouldn't even grace him with an answer?_

_Dean deserves better than that._

-

"Dean... that's enough. He's not going to answer," Sam said, and Dean's shoulders sunk.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," replied Dean, but he didn't pray again.

-

It was in the city's darkest alleyways where Castiel heard it.

A woman screamed into the night. Castiel stopped and turned his head to see the vague shadows moving between the cement buildings. He came closer. The assailants were demons; he could see their true forms, ugly and twisted and burning and engulfed in smoke -

_\- Flauros's hot breath against his ear, the fire beneath his flesh blazing, Castiel's own cries of pain ringing in his ears -_

\- attacking the lone woman, forcing her to the ground. Castiel moved with quick and forward steps. The demons turned and gazed at him, black eyes hungry and empty. One of them lunged at him. He turned, grasped it by the neck and forced it to the ground, his palm pressing against its face. Light flashed and showered from its orifices as he smote it in his grasp. The other demons backed away slowly, and moved to run, but he caught them, pushed them against the walls and scourged them from their flesh.

The corpses sunk to the ground around him, and he stood there, staring at the woman. She panted, her chest heaving, as she scrabbled away from him in fear. Her clothing was still mostly intact, but her lip was bruised and bleeding slightly, and there were other scrapes on her arms. Castiel raised his hand to heal her, but then she spoke.

"What... what are you?" she asked, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.

Castiel stumbled over words and successions of meaningless syllables spilled from his lips. _I am an angel of the Lord_ he wished to say though he knew it was not true. _I am Castiel_ he wished to say but he just could not get out the words.

"No, I know," she answered, and rose to her feet slowly, shaking her head.

Castiel looked up, and now it was his eyes that were wide and lost. The woman came closer, tears in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said. And then, "I only wish someone had been there for you."

Castiel stuttered.

The woman collected her things and left.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hello, Dean."

Dean dropped the bottle he was nursing and it smashed on the floor into a million tiny shards, splashing his feet and ankles with cold liquor. He swore, looked up, and then swore again. "How many times have I told you not to..." he started, and then stopped.

It was Cas.

Dean's mouth opened and then closed.

"Cas," he said.

"Yes, it's me," said Cas, and right there Dean just wanted to give him a bear hug. But he didn't. Instead he awkwardly faced him, tried to smile, and raised his hands in a vaguely welcoming gesture.

But to his surprise, Castiel _did_ hug him. Stiffly, and with hesitance, but it was an embrace if the angel had ever given him one. Dean slowly wrapped his arms around the angel and pat him on the back. Castiel tensed but didn't let go.

They were there for a moment like that before Castiel stepped back and looked down. "I'm sorry I left you like that. And I'm sorry I wouldn't answer you."

Dean blinked. "No - it's okay. Cas, I... I'm the one that should be saying sorry. You - you went through hell and I just started yelling at you like a dick. I should've... I should've been better about it. And I'm sorry."

Castiel stared at Dean. And then he just sighed. "Oh, Dean," he said, as if the burden of all his mistakes and blunders had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, even if only for a little bit. "Oh, Dean," he said again, and realized he was crying. Slowly, he lifted his hand up to his eyes, and wiped away the tears. "I don't know why I'm acting like this," he whispered. "I can't seem to control myself anymore."

Dean shook his head and gave him a little grin. "You don't need to control yourself, Cas. You do whatever works for you."

"Dean..."

"It's okay."

Castiel's heart fluttered. Another thing he couldn't control. But he'd known for a long time that when it came to Dean Winchester, there were a lot of things he couldn't control. He'd known ever since he'd gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. And now he knew it for sure.

"I need to hear you say it," Castiel said suddenly, before he could stop the words. _You do whatever works for you_ , Dean had said. Well, this is what it meant. This is what he was when he just couldn't control himself.

Dean stopped, and looked at Cas, his eyes unsure. "Say what?"

"Tell me that I've been useful." The words poured out from him with more force and strength than any of his tears. "Tell me that you forgive me. Tell me that I've helped. Tell me that I've done something right. Tell me that you..." His voice cracked. He should stop. He should have stopped. He should have controlled himself. "...that you need me."

And now it was Dean who gripped him tight. Castiel was trembling and breathing hard and he just let Dean surround him, and Dean was warm, not hot, embracing, but not smothering. He had Cas, but Cas had him too, and that made all the difference.

"I need you," said Dean, and Castiel closed his eyes.

-

Most days it was okay. Then some days it wasn't. Sometimes on hunts or even in the middle of nothing Castiel would stand there and stare at the wall like the wall was made of holy fire, and Dean or maybe Sam would gently touch his arm and tell him _you're okay_ , and if it was Dean, he would say _you're good, Cas,_ and if it was Sam he would say _thank you, Cas_.

And he never let people stand behind him anymore and even if you warned him ahead of time, sometimes he would still stiffen up when he was touched. But Dean and Sam never got mad. Never got offended or acted like it was a personal slight. It wasn't that Castiel didn't trust them. It was that he did. It was that he had, and he always would. It was that he was reminding himself it was okay to lose control. That was what his friends were for.

One night it was raining outside and Dean was lying in bed, and Castiel sat on the side of it, watching over him. They existed together in silence until the angel broke it. "Dean," he said, and Dean looked up.

"What?"

"I..."

 _I love you_ , he wanted to say. _I love you I love you I love you_. He sat there with his mouth hanging open a bit and eventually Dean just laughed at him.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Castiel closed his mouth, pausing. Then, he shook his head and looked out the window into the storming night. He smiled, though Dean couldn't see it. "Yes," he replied, and it was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this if you have been. I'm currently in the midst of writing another Castiel-centric fic. Hope to see you there again.


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